The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three (8 page)

“Great.” Rym sat on the couch.

Amber chose to join him. She kept her comments to herself, deciding to cover things with Rym in private. That might be the best course of action, lots of private coaching. Although, she’d need to keep a conference table between them so she didn’t make a fool of herself again by puckering up for kisses that weren’t coming. She silently berated herself. It wasn’t in her nature to act so … what was the word … wanton. Like she’d told Trish, mixing business and romance was a horrible idea. She hoped Rym hadn’t noticed her reaction to him. If he did, she’d gladly let Trish buy her a fur coat thick enough to hide in until spring.

That night, Amber fell into bed, grateful to be off the clock. Rym was smart—thank heaven! He had a wonderful memory, and she was encouraged by his quick wit.

However, his fierce independence was going to kill her. He wouldn’t shop with her at the grocery store. Instead, he preferred to get two carts and meet up at the checkout. She’d texted him to ask his dinner preferences and he replied:
Get what you want. I’ll feed myself.

Ugh! The man was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

She could help him, she really could. Rym looked good—and lean. He was thirty-two and could use a chance to fill out. Once she’d seen his shopping cart, she understood why there was so little fat on his body. The man had four boxes of cereal, a few frozen dinners, several cans of soup, and two gallons of milk. That was it.

Thankfully, she’d bought enough chicken and fish for both of them. Once he smelled her cooking, those soup cans would be a thing of the past. As long as he wasn’t too prideful to admit her blackened salmon was better than canned minestrone.

Breaking down Rym’s walls would take all her professional skills and her patience. She hoped she had a year’s worth of patience in her. Otherwise, this could be her first rocky marriage.

Chapter 7

Rym answered his phone on the first ring. “Hey, Mom.”

“Well, how is she?”

Climbing into the king-size bed, Rym sighed. “She looks like a model, has Einstein’s brain, and acts like the big sister I never had.”

“You can back out, you know. Anytime.”

Rym rubbed his eyes. “I know.” He’d tried to explain to his mom how he felt about Iron Mountain and about the importance, to him anyway, of keeping it the way it was and not handing it over to a group of people who only cared about money.

She’d responded by telling him that it wasn’t his burden to carry.

Well, it was now.

Rym said good night and stared at his phone. Strange. The two women in his life were opposites. His mom wanted him to quit the ski resort and Amber pushed him to succeed—and he had a hard time dealing with either of them.

He wished his mom would support him, even a little. But she was dead set against anything that had to do with Grandpa Mike, even if it turned her son into a billionaire.

On the other hand, he wished Amber would lighten up. All her pep talks and positive changes were getting on his nerves. Nothing about this seemed real, including her. In the short time he’d had between Grandpa’s funeral and the wedding, he’d tried to picture Amber at least a hundred times. Not once did he come up with anything that compared to her beauty. Amber’s full lips, big curls, and long legs made it difficult to think clearly.

Or, apparently, sleep.

Rym smashed his face into a pillow.
No more Amber. Sleep!

He had a big day tomorrow. It was his first day at his new job as
owner and president
of Iron Mountain. Having Amber with him was going to be good and bad. He’d have to find a balance between maintaining his authority and letting her have the run of Iron Mountain.

Chapter 8

Amber woke early, showered, dressed, and had a batch of whole wheat blueberry pancakes and sugar-free syrup ready for Rym when he wandered out. He looked professional in his Iron Mountain polo shirt and dress slacks. Amber had taken a good long look at the online photos of upper management, and while they were all well groomed, none of them wore business suits. The fact that Rym had trimmed up his beard and that his hair looked freshly washed and tousled didn’t escape Amber’s notice.

She stared for a moment before Rym said, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Amber looked down at the spatula in her hand and barely remembered to flip the pancakes before they burned.

Rym went to the fridge and took out the milk and orange juice. Amber couldn’t help but notice that his pants were a little baggy in the backseat and didn’t do much to show off his physique. She realized she was checking him out and yanked her eyes back to the pancakes.

Evaluating. She did it every day for her clients. It was part of her job description to observe areas they could improve on. It wasn’t like she was
really
checking him out. Her face felt warm.
Must be the burner
…

Pulling the pan off the heat, she placed the last two pancakes on her plate.

Rym pulled a box of cereal out of the pantry.

“Oh, I made enough for two.” Amber held out a plate.

“I think I’ll have cereal. Thanks.”

Amber clenched her jaw and then hurriedly smiled. “I’ll save these for tomorrow, then.” She rummaged through the drawers for the box of zip-top baggies that she’d picked up at the store the night before. Once the extra pancakes were in the fridge, she sat down across from Rym, who ate hunched over his bowl as if he expected her to rip it away from him at any minute.

She pondered him, wondering if there was someone who had ripped things away from him.

After a few bites, Amber said, “We should go over our strategy for today.”

“Strategy?” Rym’s spoon froze halfway to his mouth.

Amber nodded, though she tried to keep her enthusiasm in check. She instinctively knew that if she came off too excited, Rym would shut down. She needed to play this cool, even though she was exhilarated with the challenge of walking into an established business and evaluating the programs. She hadn’t had an opportunity like this since she’d been a freelance consultant. “You’ll be meeting with the head of each department today for a briefing. What you do today will set the tone with them. You’ve probably already met with some of them as their employee, but as their boss, you’ll be treated differently.” She paused to take a sip of her orange juice. “Or, worse yet, they’ll think they’re still over you and try to run the show.”

Rym set his spoon back in the bowl without taking a bite. He didn’t say anything, but she could see the wheels were turning. That was encouraging; at least he listened.

“I think the best plan of action is to use today to gather information. Listen to their concerns and then thank them for their time and send them on their way. We’ll write down our questions, go over any materials they provide, and then have a follow-up meeting next week after we’ve looked over the entire operation.”

“Why can’t I ask questions now?”

Amber took her plate to the sink and rinsed it. She hadn’t been able to choke down more than a couple bites. “You can if you want. But you’ll probably find that a lot of them will be answered as the day goes on. Plus, if we take time to review the information, learn their terminology, and understand their systems, your questions will come from a place of power rather than a place of ignorance and your managers will respect your efforts.” She leaned against the counter.

Rym brought his bowl to the sink. Half his breakfast remained. She really needed to figure out a way to get this guy to eat. If her blueberry pancakes didn’t do the trick, she wasn’t sure what would. Bacon maybe?

“Are you ready to go?” Rym asked. He put his bowl in the dishwasher and filled the soap dispenser.

Amber blinked. Not a word about what she’d just coached him on? “I just need my sweater.”

“I’ll go get the car warmed up.” Rym left without making eye contact.

Amber wondered what she’d done wrong. Jeremy would have clarified instructions and wanted to run through several scenarios. “What have I gotten myself into?” she asked the empty room. No answer came, and Amber felt a desperate need for some chocolate—liquid or otherwise.

Chapter 9

Rym decided Amber had a fancy way of saying, “Keep your mouth shut and your head down.”

He might have hurt her feelings when he didn’t eat the pancakes, and he felt bad about that. It wasn’t that he didn’t like pancakes. He just didn’t like that this stranger suddenly had so much say in his life. She’d jumped in at the bank and the grocery store and was trying to tell him what to eat for breakfast and how to act. He had to draw a line somewhere, and the
where
had been breakfast.

He pulled into the left lane, made the turn, and fell in behind several vehicles waiting to enter the employee parking lot.

“What are you doing?” asked Amber.

Rym took a deep breath in through his nose. “Parking.”

“Don’t you have an executive parking place?”

Rym’s eyes traveled up the five-tiered parking lot to the small section at the top. He’d never even driven through there to turn around before. “I don’t know.”

Amber wiggled her eyebrows. “Let’s find out.”

Rym flipped on his blinker and pulled out of line at the first break in traffic. He maneuvered into the executive lot and found a spot labeled “Mr. Hoagland.” The paint was faded and the sign showed patches of rust. No one bothered to repaint it for him. Not that they should have to; it was the same name, after all.

He stared.

“Are you going to pull in?”

“No.” Rym accelerated out of the executive lot and back down to the fifth tier, where the employee vehicles lined up.

“Why not?” Amber looked behind them.

“I’m not
that
Mr. Hoagland.” Rym parked, set the brake, and jumped out of the car. He slid into his heavy winter coat and waited for Amber to join him in front of the vehicle.

Her luscious lips were pressed tightly together, and she pulled her arms close to her body.

“Sorry, I should have dropped you off at the top.” He unzipped his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “You really need a coat.”

“I know.” She gave him a small smile and then buried herself in the nylon.

They had to pass through the executive parking to get to the building. Amber stopped in front of the empty parking spot. “What did you mean, you’re not
that
Mr. Hoagland?”

Rym’s hands balled into fists. “Do you have to pick it apart?”

Amber planted her feet. “Yes, I do.”

Rym squeezed his hands tighter. He could play her game, and he’d give her the answer she was looking for. “Fine.” He started at the end of the line and pointed at each car. “Lexus. Lexus. Mercedes. Lexus. My parking space. Mercedes. Porsche. What kind of car do I drive?” he demanded.

Amber shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s not a Mercedes; I’ll tell ya that. You said I was supposed to come from a place of power today. Well, parking my junker here is not going to win me any points.”

Amber tipped her head to the side. “You’re absolutely right.”

“I am?”

“Yep. I just hope your car was the real reason you didn’t want to park here. We can always buy you a new car. However, if there was something else behind your decision …” Amber left her thoughts hanging and started for the lodge doors.

Rym took a couple quick steps to catch up. “What other reasons would there be?”

Amber glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “You didn’t feel worthy to park in the executive lot.”

Rym put his hands behind his back. That was exactly what he thought. Who was he to take the best parking spot? Who was he to follow in a giant’s footsteps? He was a nobody.

Amber placed her hand on his upper arm, and Rym held his breath. “You, Rym Hoagland, are worth any parking spot, job title, or woman that you believe yourself worthy of. The only thing that would ever hold you back from having it all would be your own self-doubt.” She gave his arm a squeeze and then continued on to the stairs marked “Employees Only.”

Rym stared after her, dumbfounded. She’d seen right through him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was pretty used to keeping his insecurities under wraps. It was unnerving to have them openly examined, acknowledged, and undermined in one swift blow.

***

“How did you know where to go?” Rym asked Amber as he entered his grandpa’s office and found her unloading her laptop. As far as he knew, Amber had never set foot in Utah before, much less the main lodge at Iron Mountain. Of course, he didn’t know that much about her except that she hated the cold.

“I looked up a map online before I flew out. I can also find the employee lunchroom, the hot chocolate stations, and the women’s bathroom.” She smiled.

“A place of power,” Rym mumbled.

Amber must have heard him, because she replied, “Information
is
power; which is why we need to get you set up with security clearance to access every file and program in this company.” She glanced to the open door. “This is good. You need practice being the man in charge. Call your secretary and ask her to come in. Then ask her to get you a new profile, not update your old one; you want a new personnel file.”

Rym moved to walk out and talk to his secretary.

“No.” Amber reached out to stop him. “Call her in here.”

The things Amber thought were important. “Why?”

“Why did you want to go talk to her at her desk?”

“Um, it seemed like the thing to do.”

Amber waved for him to come closer. “Why?”

“Because it would be a lot of bother for her to come in here, and I didn’t want to bother her.”

“Right. But it’s her job to be bothered by you.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Rym, she works
for
you. You can be polite, and in the future it would be fine for you to stop by her desk. But you need practice being in the power seat.” She put her hands on his shoulders and steered him behind the large walnut desk. “Now, press the intercom button and ask her to come in here.”

Rym cringed, but did it.

A few seconds later, Rebecca came in carrying a small pad of paper and a pen. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

Rym looked at Amber. Her eyes widened slightly as if she were saying, “Go. Speak.”

Rym felt like an idiot as he asked for the new personnel account for himself and access to the employee programs. He would much rather do it on his own, and probably would have if he had any idea how to go about creating a new file. He gripped the armrest of the plush leather chair and purposefully didn’t look at Amber. Relying on someone else to get things done had thrown him out of his comfort zone in a big way. Suddenly his sweater weighed fifty pounds and pressed against his skin, hanging on him.

“I’ll get right on that. Anything else?”

A hot trickle of sweat went down Rym’s back. He hated this pressure. He broke and glanced at Amber, remembering how she handled Mr. Baggs at the bank. If she could step in and tell him to stuff it, then surely Rym could ask one more task from his secretary. “We’ll need the same clearances for Amber as well. She can give you her information when we’re done here.”

“Yes, sir.” Rebecca lowered her pad of paper. “And may I just say how sorry I am for your loss. Mr. Hoagland was a good man and he will be greatly missed.”

Taken off guard by Rebecca’s obvious sorrow, Rym could only nod. She left with a quick swish of her ankle-length skirt.

Amber patted his shoulder. “Well done, Mr. Hoagland. Well done.”

Rym ran his fingers through his hair, relieved to be done with Amber’s little exercise. “Okay, I understand why you made me do that. I’m not used to asking people for things.”

Amber gave him a knowing smile. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said.

Rym didn’t miss the bewitching twinkle in her eye. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked making me sweat.” He crossed his arms.

“I liked watching you grow.” She crossed her legs and settled into the chair across from his massive desk.

Dang, this desk was big. Did his grandfather know how to do anything on a small scale?

Feeling much more comfortable teasing Amber than listening to her coach him, Rym wiggled his eyebrows. “So you admit you like watching me?”

She bolted out of her seat. “That’s not what I said, I—”

Rym chuckled at her aghast expression. “She who protests most.”

“What?!”

There was a loud beep and Rebecca’s voice came over the intercom. “Ryan Turnbow from accounting is here for your nine o’clock meeting.”

In an instant, Amber became the epitome of a collected professional. She smoothed her suit jacket, flipped her loose hair over her shoulder, and pressed her lips together to freshen her lipstick. She didn’t need the lipstick; her lips were perfectly delicious without it. However, Rym did like the glossy look. It drew the eye.

He realized he was staring.

Amber smirked. “Speaking of watching …”

Rym scowled. “Send him in,” he told Rebecca. What started out as teasing had quickly hit too close to home.

***

Turned out, asking his secretary for something was the easiest part of Rym’s day. By noon, his head was spinning. Every hour on the hour, a new department head appeared at his door with a binder full of information, a PowerPoint presentation, and some sort of request.

Human Resources wanted to hire, Marketing wanted a bigger budget, Guest Services wanted two more luxury vehicles to use as shuttles, and he was sure the list would continue after lunch.

Rym’s first instinct was to give everyone what they wanted. After he’d told Vanessa from Human Resources to go ahead and place an ad for a new employee, Amber put her hand on his knee and shook her head. She waited until Vanessa left before reminding him, “Today is about gathering information. The next time someone asks for something, tell them you’ll look into it.”

He started to protest.

Amber held up her hand. “Hiring a new employee costs, on average, three thousand dollars. Then you add their salary and employee taxes, health insurance costs, and so on. It adds up fast. The next thing you know, you’ve spent sixty to eighty thousand dollars.”

Rym scrubbed at his beard. “I hate that I don’t know this stuff.” He got up and paced the room. “And, no offense, but I don’t like having you hanging over my shoulder like I can’t tie my shoes on my own.”

Amber looked pained. “This isn’t easy for me, either.”

“Are you kidding? You’re in your element. You have a new husband who obviously needs a lot of work, and my grandpa gave you babysitting privileges.”

“Babysitting? Is that what you think I’m doing?” She crossed the room and shut the heavy wooden doors.

Rym’s voice had gotten louder, but he just couldn’t stop now that the release button had been pressed. “I can’t even have breakfast without you trying to feed me.” Rym threw his hands in the air. “Did you force-feed all your husbands, or am I just a special case?”

Amber’s cheeks flushed. She put one hand on her hip. “When I married Braden, he lived off greasy hamburgers and French fries. Not a smart move for a heart surgeon.

“Jeremy was the skinniest guy in the major leagues and he desperately needed to build lean muscle. I fed him into the body he has today, which is hopefully strong enough to withstand an injury.

“And you, you live off soup and cereal. You don’t put enough nutrients into your body to ski well, let alone think straight.” She wrenched open the door. “And for your information, none of my husbands found any reason to pass up my blueberry pancakes.”

She stormed out, and Rym barely had a moment to realize he’d gotten under Amber’s skin before Mom rushed in.

“Was that her?”

Rym dropped to his seat. “Yes.”

“She’s a real piece of work.”

Rym rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. That comment about
all her husbands
was low. “I think I deserved that.” He made a face. Who knew a woman could get so worked up about pancakes? The way she stormed out, and the wounded look in her eyes, made him think she was upset about something more than pancakes. He didn’t feel like going after Amber was a good idea. And now that his mom was here … Wait … “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how things were going.” She looked over her shoulder at the door. “I guess I know. What are the grounds for divorce in that prenup of yours?”

“Mom.” Rym rounded the desk and took his seat. “One fight does not warrant a divorce.” He threw his hands in the air. “It wasn’t even a fight.” Not really. He looked at his palms.

Mother leaned over the desk, a wickedly happy look in her eye. “What about an annulment?”

“Mom, I know this is hard for you, but I’ve committed to this marriage … and the job.”

Sighing heavily, Mom fell into a chair.